


Doctor Idiot, the hero

by Shiba_K



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I'm not a hero, Light Angst, hints of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:13:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiba_K/pseuds/Shiba_K
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor does not see himself as a hero, but struggles with who he should be then. Clara is there to provide the answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Idiot, the hero

Clara had to admit that she was a little taken aback by the enthusiasm with which the Doctor and her were being thanked for having prevented a natural disaster from destroying the northern continent of Sheera. The counsel room was packed with aliens wearing what Clara guessed passed as formal suits on this planet. They had been there a considerable amount of time and she had lost count of the amount of hands she had shaken. Unfortunately, from where she was, she could see that there were still plenty of Sheerians lining up to express their gratitude to the Doctor who was standing a little further away. It certainly was a welcoming change from being chased by angry mobs who weren’t so thankful for their help. 

But it was becoming a bit much if she was honest. Perhaps it was the amount of abnormally broad smiles that were a bit disconcerting, or maybe Clara was just too accustomed to less thankful people. Either way, things were getting a little awkward and she could sense even from the other side of the counsel room the Doctor’s increasing discomfort. 

The Time Lord was currently talking to the Sheerian Queen, all smiles and handshakes. Yet Clara saw how stiff his posture was and the way his eyes darted around the room in search of her. She decided that it was time to say their goodbyes and return to the TARDIS. Enough excitement for one day. 

She lost sight of the Doctor as she made her way through the crowd being stopped by more happy dignitaries. When Clara finally managed to emerge on the other side of the crowd, her eyes immediately fell upon the Doctor’s frowning face. 

Walking quickly over to him, Clara caught the end of their conversation.

‘… and know that you will always be welcome on Sheera, Doctor. You and your companion of course,’ the Queen finished turning at Clara’s approach. Clara gave the Queen a polite smile and thanked her profusely for her offer. The Queen was older than most of the people present and old age had somewhat tempered the broadness of her smile. Nevertheless, the combination of humanoid features with the large smile and thick whiskers on the cheeks still made Clara slightly uncomfortable. 

Stepping closer to the Doctor, she took his hand in hers, giving his long fingers a gentle squeeze in a silent attempt at comforting him. When she briefly glanced up at him, she saw that the frown had remained in place and that his eyes were clouded, as if he were upset. It worried her. The fact that he was almost polite in making their excuses to leave did little to reassure her. 

‘Let’s go, Clara, we shouldn’t dawdle here,’ the Doctor huffed and began walking in the direction of the TARDIS. Forced to tag along because of their linked hands, Clara offered apologetic smiles to the aliens who had clearly wanted to speak to them but were rebuffed.

The short walk to the TARDIS was spent in silence and as soon as they had entered the time ship, the Doctor let go of her hand and trudged over to the console. Carefully closing the door with a soft click, Clara observed the Time Lord from afar as he flicked various switches and pressed more buttons to plot their course through the Vortex. He released the handbrake and the time-rotor began to move as the TARDIS engines roared to life. 

Clearly there was something bothering him. The Doctor was never this quiet after one of their adventures unless things had gone badly. This trip had been the opposite. He had done a clever thing and saved a whole continent without even breaking a sweat. And yet here he was with slumped shoulders and an air of gloom clinging to him. The urge to go over to him and hug him till everything was okay again was hard to resist. 

Quietly, Clara made her way over to him and leaned her hip against the side panel of the telepathic interface, one finger tracing the metal dividers absentmindedly. 

‘Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?’

Clara’s soft voice broke through the silence in the room, almost startling the Doctor. He had been lost in his thoughts, forgetting that he wasn’t alone. Lifting his gaze to meet hers, he glanced away just as quickly and bit his left thumb. It wasn’t like he did not want to talk to Clara. On the contrary. He had come to relish the idea of sharing some of his thoughts with her. But sometimes the nagging thought that he shouldn’t burden his Clara with his problems reared its ugly head. It was something that hadn’t been an issue for a while, something he had thought he had managed to put behind. Or if he was honest, bury far enough down it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. Except when the Queen had said it out loud that his doubts had risen again. 

_‘You are considered a hero by all of the Sheerians, Doctor. I cannot express enough how grateful I am for saving us today. A real hero.’_

There were those words again. A hero. 

‘Doctor?’ 

There was worry edged in her tone as Clara called his name. Sighing, the Doctor looked at Clara’s hand resting on top his right one still holding the handbrake, and then into her concerned gaze when the same hand cupped his cheek and gently tilted his head. They stared at one another for a moment, Clara intent on trying to read his eyes, searching their bottomless depths for an answer as to why her friend was upset. 

The Doctor covered Clara’s hands with own, finally letting go of the lever. He folded her delicate hand in his larger ones, calloused thumbs stroking the soft skin of her knuckles. 

‘Just the thoughts of an old man, Clara,’ the Time Lord gave her a tiny smile that did not reach his eyes, ‘don’t fret too much over me, it’s not worth it.’ 

Clara’s eyes shifted between his own and their clasped hands, and felt a pang of disappointment when the Doctor let go of her. She could sense him retreating, physically and emotionally as he stepped away from the console and her and toward the stairs leading to the upper level. Her concern now mixed with a mild annoyance at his reluctance to share whatever was plaguing him simply because he did not want to bother her with it, be a burden to her. 

_Stupid alien idiot with his stupid duty of care_ , Clara thought and followed the Doctor up the stairs. 

‘Why don’t you let me decide what’s worth fretting about and what’s not?’ She tried to keep her words gentle so that he knew she wasn’t angry at him, but firm enough to let him know that she wasn’t going to let it go of the issue either. 

The Doctor came to a stop near his wingback chair and leaned his forearms on the railing. Another sigh escaped his lips as he looked down toward the console and then back up at his companion who had inched closer to him. Close enough that he could reach out to her if he wanted, but not too close that he would feel pressured to do so. 

He huffed, annoyed at himself for different reasons. For falling back into old habits, for worrying Clara, for his inability to take the comfort that was being offered so kindly to him. His gaze flicked away. 

Clara stood quietly next to the Doctor as he became absorbed in his thoughts once more. She waited for him to speak, giving him time to order his thoughts. He hadn’t left the console room yet. This, she had come to understand, meant that the Doctor was willing to talk to her. She just needed to be patient. In the meantime, she gazed at his hands, indulging herself in the study of his elegant fingers. 

‘They think I’m a hero,’ the Doctor spoke eventually, breaking the silence. He let the words hang in the air for a moment before turning to Clara. He gazed at her with a question in his clouded eyes and a kind of fervent hope that she could help him find the answer to it because he wasn’t able to.

_Why?_

Clara’s heart constricted painfully at the thought that the Doctor, deep down, was still struggling with the notion that other people saw him as a hero. She realized that even though he had seemed to have come to terms with how he saw himself, very little was needed to cause his old demons to resurface. This realization was accompanied with a sense of guilt at never having discussed this matter with him after what had happened with the Cybermen. Clara winced internally. Some friend she was. Well, she could make it up to him by helping him now. 

‘Doctor,’ she shifted a little closer and held her hand palm upwards near his, offering whatever he wanted: support, comfort, affection, love. The Time Lord took the proffered hand with a slight hesitation, though once the connection had been made, he intertwined their fingers and held on tightly to her. 

‘Doctor,’ Clara repeated his chosen name, pausing to find the right words, ‘there are countless things that you do that other people will consider as heroic. People … you do something clever and the world is no longer crashing down. You bring hope to those who have none, you save people, and when you lose, despite how hard you tried, you get back up again and continue. It doesn’t matter which time period, which planet or which race it is, to them you’ll be a hero.’

There was a little voice inside the Doctor’s head that whispered counter-arguments for each point that Clara listed, poisonous words that had the ability to send him spiraling down into a dark place. And yet, the way Clara put it, the sincerity in her voice made even that pesky voice sound less loud in his mind. 

‘Do you still see me a hero?’ The question stumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself and for a second he dreaded to Clara’s answer. Especially since he knew she had sensed him tense up through their linked hands and couldn’t pretend to be unaffected by it. 

Clara scrutinized his face and the Doctor was transported back to a rainy Glasgow on Christmas day, the same frown had been present then as well as she had studied the new him. 

He was hard pressed to admit that when Clara’s answer came, it left him with the bitter taste of disappointment in his mouth. 

‘No, I don’t,’ the words were firm, confident, resolute, and even though the Doctor loathed being called a hero, he wondered what he could possibly be in Clara’s eyes if he couldn’t even be her hero. 

But his companion was quick to put his troubled mind at rest. 

Clara’s frown was replaced by a radiant smile while her eyes sparkled teasingly. ‘You can really be Doctor Idiot sometimes, you know that?’ Giving his hand a quick squeeze, her free hand rose to cup his left cheek while she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed the corner of his lips, lingering there. Dropping back down, she tilted her head slightly to one side. 

‘Why would I need a hero when I have my Doctor?’ Clara explained, watching his eyes grow wide as her statement sunk in. This time the smile that graced his lips was genuine and it warmed her heart. In response, the Doctor took both her hands in his and kissed them in a silent thank-you before shifting his stance and tugging her close for a hug. Clara was forced to lean backwards a little as he pulled her close, though she didn’t mind the awkward position. She just smiled and rubbed the Doctor’s back in a gentle motion. 

When they parted, Clara proposed tea and cuddles in the library, something that had become a regular post-adventure ritual for the two of them. The Doctor nodded in agreement. 

‘With those yummy biscuits you bought last week?’ he asked eagerly earning himself a soft laugh from Clara. 

‘Yes, with the yummy biscuits. Although we might have to do more running if you keep insisting on eating so many of them,’ she joked, ‘Go on then, I’ll prepare the tea and join you in the library.’ 

Stepping away and walking to the stairs, Clara hesitated and turned back to the Doctor. 

‘Are you ok now?’ 

The Time Lord nodded once more, hoping his eyes conveyed all the things that he could not say out loud. His Clara, smart as she was which he really ought to tell her more often, smiled in understanding. He was sure that that brilliant smile was permanently etched onto his memory.

The Doctor watched as Clara made her way out of the control room, his eyes following her movements. He lingered on the upper level even when he no longer could hear her footsteps. He stayed there smiling to himself, thinking that although he would never see himself as a hero, he could at least try to live up to the image of Doctor Idiot. For Clara. 

Satisfied with the promise he had made with himself, he too made his way to the library. 

_Fin_


End file.
